rock over London. rock on, Chicago.

I haven’t written anything in a long time. I’ve probably weeded out most of the non-believers.

it’s very windy right now. the apartment building serves as a windbreak after a vacant lot, and it gets hit pretty good. I can see dust clouds moving down the street. and I’m listening to “oceans” by Pearl Jam. so deep, man. so, deep.

this week for the Ticket package? rapper who calls himself (deleted, hah!)is playing at the local asshole bar. and, as he’s an affiliate, most of G-Unit is going to be there. I shit you not. 50 Cent himself.
but that’s not on the record, so we can’t print it.
matter of fact, if my employers found out I wrote about this prior on a web log, I’d be in a lot of shit. but that’s to be expected; I’d be in shit anyway if they found out about this at all.
so do I spend 50 bucks and get in a 200 person audience to party with a shitty gangsta rap star? do I? 50 knows Eminem, who was in “8 Mile” with Brittany Murphy, who was in “Don’t Say a Word” with Oliver Platt, who was in something called “Loverboy” with Kevin Bacon. four degrees! it’s in four days. it’s a sign!

I went to a Brazilian steak house last night in Mexicali with some coworkers. jesus, god. I should have intervention angioplasty after that meal. just meat, and meat and meat. after a plate, you feel huge, and then they come around with the roasted pineapple on the sword, and that’s it. youj’re fucked. they wheel your unconscious ass outside, dump you on the curb and leave 100 pesos in your breast pocket for cab fair.
then you’ve hit rock bottom.
all in all, it’s pretty good, if only something you eat once every three or four months. it’s like the buffet I can see from my window, only slightly better food, more expensive and Mexican. three qualities you’d be unwise to go without.

alright, now I’m listening to Tom Waits’ version of “big rock candy mountain.” I want my album back, Josh, you son of a bitch.

I almost got burned out at work today. key word is “almost.”
I can’t wait to quit. I’m done qualifying this. this place is alright, but I’m not interested in committing my early twenties to it. the tiny, tiny wheels in my fat, fat head are in motion.

that’s all for now. oh, wait: know what would be a good idea? if Mar returned emails. yeah, that’s be pretty sweet.
just a thought.

I got my fantasy football trophy (and my prize money) in the mail the other day. after the USPS was through with it, this is what it looked like. but it’s the thought that counts.

this, here, is vintage Dave.

speaking of Dave, I had “Back to the Future” on this afternoon. when Crispin Glover lays out Biff in the parking lot at the Enchantment under the Sea dance? that’s one of those moments in American cinematic history. what a great movie.

was it always like this? did people actually start running for office 22 months before the election?

either way, if a presidential campaign is a play, in acts, then right now the orchestra is just tuning up. but it’s not that cacophony of noise, of a couple dozen violins playing scales. it’s more like when you’re at the zoo, and you can hear screams coming from the ape house. dogs snarling. animals roaring. it’s like the background noise of a Salvador Dali painting. (also: Franco supported Salvador Dali)
but, the first act is beginning. the candidates are beginning their shit talk. the backstabbing and double-crossing starts. the groveling, the switching of positions, the commandeering of pop ballads.

I was reading today, in the New York Times, about this. today, the guy behind Geffen Records is talking shit about the Clintons. see, he used to be a Clinton supporter, but not anymore. now he’s got Obamarama. according to the Wikipedia page in his honor, he has become “disillusioned with Hillary Clinton’s political viewpoints.” this is right above the link to Wikipedia’s List of Billionaires.

It began with a column in The New York Times by Maureen Dowd, in which Mr. Geffen said the Clintons lie “with such ease, it’s troubling” and that the Clinton political operation “is going to be very unpleasant and unattractive and effective.” Mr. Geffen called Mr. Clinton a “reckless guy” who had not changed in the last six years, and suggested that Mrs. Clinton was too scripted.

predictably, the Clinton campaign shit a brick.

“While Senator Obama was denouncing slash-and-burn politics yesterday, his campaign’s finance chair was viciously and personally attacking Senator Clinton and her husband,” Howard Wolfson, the Clinton campaign communications director, said in a statement.

and over in the AFC, John McCain has taken to distancing himself from the current administration. he chose the world’s easiest (albeit deserving) target, Donald Rumsfeld, and proceeded to aim at his balls for points.

”I think that Donald Rumsfeld will go down in history as one of the worst secretaries of defense in history,” McCain said to applause.

he also talked some junk about Cheney, but don’t worry about that shit. they’re cool.

I hate politicians. I can feel the bile rising in my throat when I think that one of these cocksuckers is going to be the next president. and to think; these are the ones I can feasibly stomach. barely. I mean, seriously, Mitt Romney is running. Mitt fucking Romney!

my computer at work routinely stops functioning. in all facets of the game. offline programs, internet connection. I spent all this morning at work – nice – reading about the Libby trial, and all of the fascinating machinations of those evil fucking toads in the White House – how it was like a pack of reservoir dogs, everyone trying to save face and cover their own asses – and I thought, “hey, this would be something I’d option for the old web log.”
but when I try to link to an article, the page doesn’t want to open up. technology and computers are quietly evil. they make everything easier, but they kill you, slowly, by making you fat from lack of exercise and giving you carpal tunnel.

alright. finally.

also, I can’t stop checking my mail. it’s been two days, and I can’t stop checking my mail.

so I’ve been introduced to a Chinese buffet place in town. you can see it from my fucking window. yes!

I haven’t posted anything in about a week, but here’s what’s up:
I designed a kickass page for the Weekend Ticket. someone’s grandmother called me up and why I didn’t include a picture of the Wizard — her grandkid — in the “Wizard of Oz” package I featured. I told her it’s because I’ve always hated her grandson.
later that day, after discussing this incident, the editor in chief told me I dress like a 7th grader. I was wearing a DARE shirt.
shortly thereafter, I sent in for the Post-Tribune.

and: these here are a collection of photos on my desktop that I never had a change to use. but, for the most part, they’re pretty self explanatory.

not self explanatory. “hey, brother. smile.”

some third-rate former center came out of the closet recently. which is great, cause that means that sports writers have get to ask NBA players — who are collectively around the level of a 10th grade education — what they think about it.

“As long as you don’t bring your gayness on me, I’m fine.”

so please. keep your gayness off of Shavlik Randolph, and just read Michael Wilbon’s article. it’s entirely more interesting.

note: Randolph played for Duke. what a fag.

oh, the new media: where everyone wants to be treated like an adult, but no one wants to take responsibility for their actions.
I seriously can’t believe this is news. I now hate, with passion, every single person mentioned in this story after reading it. god damn it. god damn it, these assholes and their hysterical screeching are in the Washington Post. god damn it, what’s wrong with politics?

Marcotte charged that Donohoe had been running a “scorched earth campaign” against her and that he “made no bones about the fact that his intent is to ‘silence’ me. . . . It was creating a situation where I felt that every time I coughed, I was risking the Edwards campaign. . . . Bill Donohue doesn’t speak for Catholics, he speaks for the right wing noise machine.”

you know, maybe my sympathies should lie somewhere else … but no. I have a Blogspot page. that doesn’t make me akin, at all. so cry me a fucking river, Amanda Marcotte. you know the sad state of affairs that is the 24-hours news cycle? yeah. you blog for a living. politically. you know who else does that? Michelle Malkin! so she’s like a fellow traveler, if only spirit. and therefore, fuck you.
and, as a sidenote, if I had witnessed Bil O’Reilly “leading his program with a full-throated attack on the two bloggers” I would have lost my shit and gone on a fucking shooting spree. jesus. bloggers.

Vladimir Putin goes to Munich with a fucking bone to pick, man.

“The process of NATO expansion has nothing to do with modernization of the alliance,” Mr. Putin said. “We have the right to ask, ‘Against whom is this expansion directed?’”

BUT … Robert Gates is so funny, how could anyone not smile?

“And, I guess, old spies have a habit of blunt speaking,” Mr. Gates said. “However, I have been to re-education camp — spending four and half years as a university president and dealing with faculty.” His remark drew laughs and applause.

AND … the Australian Prime Minister is like George Bush, only a couple of years ago and Australian.

In a nationally televised interview on Sunday, Howard said Obama’s plan meant al-Qaida leaders in Iraq should “be praying as many times as possible for a victory, not only for Obama but also for the Democrats” at presidential elections in November 2008.

but, “kaboom!” goes Obama:
“So if he is ginned up to fight the good fight in Iraq, I would suggest that he calls up another 20,000 Australians and sends them to Iraq,” Obama said. “Otherwise it’s just a bunch of empty rhetoric.”

“the late greats” is a good song by Wilco. that’s right. I only listen to the jangly, poppy hits. that’s right.

the best songs never get sung.
the best life never leaves your lungs.
it’s so good you won’t ever know.
you’ll never hear it on the radio.
you can’t hear it on the radio.

and also:
take another bite of your chocolate bar, you piece of shit. take another bite.

Ivory Coast, the world’s No. 1 cocoa producer, has been racked by instability since a brief 2002 civil war. International rights groups contend that children are working as slaves on its cocoa plantations.

“I cannot deny that there are issues with child labor but it is totally wrong to call it slavery,” said Robert Zehnder, secretary general of the European Cocoa Association (ECA). “We work with governments and NGOs to address the problem.”

I don’t know if this journalist is hysterical or what, but at least he’s being proactive about it. at least he’s doing something with his life, Josh and Smith.

breaking:
I have debuted on the internet.

go to www.ivpressonline.com. right underneath the hilarious poll about Punxsutawney Phil, there’s a thing that says “headlines in the next edition of the Imperial Valley Press.” and it says “watch video.”
oh god, watch it.
I do this every thursday. it’s up from around 7 p.m. eastern thursday to 1 p.m. eastern friday.
for those of you who wonder what I look and sound like, and for the rest of you (Smith) who just need something fresh to jack it to, you’re welcome.
as you can see, I have something in my eye, and a chronic neck twitch. I also can’t read, and am getting more and more bloated. oh, and I hang out in a pressroom.